


Partners in Crime(fighting)

by A_Diamond



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - FBI, FBI Agent Derek Hale, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, It's For a Case, Light Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Derek, Podfic, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: Derek Hale has had a lot of bad luck in his life. More than his fair share, it often feels like, and that’s not even counting the acts of intentional malevolence that shaped his life and drove him to a career in law enforcement and the FBI. Bad things just happen to him, flukes ranging from strangers’ spilled coffee to the paths of ricocheting bullets. With all that in mind, it shouldn’t be a surprise to be partnered with Agent Stilinski on this case.





	Partners in Crime(fighting)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SmallBirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallBirds/gifts).



> Now with a [podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178008) by [AiJamaisFacil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiJamaisFacil/pseuds/AiJamaisFacil)!

Derek Hale has had a lot of bad luck in his life. More than his fair share, it often feels like, and that’s not even counting the acts of intentional malevolence that shaped his life and drove him to a career in law enforcement and the FBI. Bad things just happen to him, flukes ranging from strangers’ spilled coffee to the paths of ricocheting bullets, to the point where his younger sister gleefully informs him he’s cursed and his older sister has a stack of “Not Again” balloons and inflates one every time she visits him in the hospital for some new line of duty injury.

With all that in mind, it shouldn’t be a surprise to be partnered with Agent Stilinski on this case, because Stiles is the one person he wants to work with least, in general and especially on this particular operation. But it does come as a surprise, the worst kind of shock. Because though the universe likes to use him as its karmic whipping boy on a regular basis, it’s been a while since it fucked him over this badly.

Then Stiles comes out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his chest still flushed from the heat of his shower. His clothes usually hide him in baggy armor that suggests a thin frame, but Derek’s seen him shirtless enough to not be surprised by the wiry muscle definition across his chest and arms.

It’s still torture every time.

This time, Stiles makes it worse by smirking at him and asking, “Still brooding, darling?”

Derek physically can’t look away, so he hides his stare behind a glare and prays it’s not as transparent as it feels. “Shut up.”

Stiles doesn’t shut up; Stiles is, as far as Derek’s ever been able to determine, physically incapable of shutting up. “Aww, sweetheart, I’m sorry they sent your luggage to Philadelphia. But it’ll be here in the morning, so just relax. Anyone would think you’re not enjoying our honeymoon, honeybun.”

“Stop that,” he growls. “Stop calling me stupid pet names, there’s no one around to act for.”

“Uh huh, okay. I’ll stop,” says Stiles.

He walks right up to Derek, who dropped himself into one of the too-firm chairs as soon as Stiles went into the bathroom, needing to sort through the contents of the small carry-on he still has with him. Laptop, cell phone, sidearm—all necessary, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to wait on them, but nothing that will help him get through tonight. Not when Stiles’s approach puts his towel-clad thighs right in front of Derek’s face.

Right there. Derek could reach out and wrap his fingers around the muscle, feel it flex under his hands; lean forward and rip the towel off with his teeth, leave Stiles bare; nose at the crease between Stiles’s pelvis and leg, where it’s bound to smell like him past the inoffensive hotel soap; suck him slow and sweet until all he can say is Derek’s name and _yes_ and _please_ and maybe even _you’re so good, fuck, Derek_ —

He does none of these things, because no matter how much he wants to, he assumes that’s at least how much Stiles doesn’t want him to. Stiles doesn’t want him. That’s why being partnered with Stiles on this case is the worst thing that could have happened to him. Derek can live with it most of the time, has resigned himself to the ache of unrequited love that lives pretty much constantly in his chest; but _this._ This is too much to ask of his damaged heart.

“I’ll stop just as soon as you stop flinching every time I do it,” Stiles continues, oblivious to Derek’s turmoil. “But you’re acting like I’m punching you every time I do it, and that’s not gonna fly. We’re on our honeymoon, remember?”

He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers to flash the gold ring newly placed there. Like Derek can possibly forget when he has its match on his own hand, a false claim of ownership that shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. None of this should get to him as much as it does, because he’s a trained federal agent with a job to do, but Stiles has always managed to get under his skin like that.

He has to either get himself together or admit it’s a problem and why, and the thought of doing that after five years of pathetic pining is enough to combat his body’s instinctive reaction to a mostly naked Stiles calling him _sweetheart_. Looking out the window, away from the infuriatingly perfect man he’ll never have, Derek says, “I’ll be fine in public, there’s no need to—to practice it.”

“Yeah, dude, no. If your fragile heterosexuality can’t handle a few joking endearments, you’re going to freak out on me when I get handsy all over you on the street.” Derek’s eyes snap back up to Stiles in shock, but of course he keeps going. “And the operational plan calls for handsy, I know you know that. Is this going to be a problem? It’s totally going to be a problem, why didn’t you say something sooner? I could’ve run this job with literally anyone else. Boyd, Greenberg—Jesus, you’re making me consider Greenberg, do you have any idea how terrible that is?”

Derek does; he’s also worked with the man. He knows exactly how insulting that is, which is why events unfold the way they do from here. The first thing Derek says to defend himself is, “It’s my case,” which is, he thinks, a perfectly reasonable and valid argument.

As is his way, Stiles disagrees. “Seriously? That’s what this is, you’re willing to tank a human trafficking investigation just to make sure you get credit for it? Jesus, Hale, I really thought you were better than that. I mean, I also didn’t think you were such a homophobic dickbag that _playing_ gay would overcome the love of protocol that’s shoved up your—”

“I’m bi,” he interrupts, because that’s not what he meant at all and having Stiles think that any of that is true is more than he can stand. That doesn’t mean he meant to say it, or that he’s happy once it’s out.

But it does stop Stiles’s angry tirade in its tracks. “What?”

“I’m. Bisexual.” Saying it a second time is harder.

He hasn’t told anyone since starting at the Bureau. The only people there who know are the agent who did his background investigation when he applied and Vernon Boyd, because he’s married to Derek’s best friend since high school. It’s not that he’s closeted, it just hasn’t come up; he hasn’t had dates to introduce at office gatherings, doesn’t like to talk about his personal life and hasn’t been interested in anyone other than Stiles anyway.

“Oh,” says Stiles. He backs away, which would be a relief except he goes to the other arm chair, angled halfway toward Derek’s, and sits down in it.

Still wearing just a towel.

It rides up his legs, exposes the inside of his thigh, and Derek’s not a strong enough man to look away. At least, not until Stiles says, “ _Oh,_ ” in a much different tone and Derek has to meet his eyes knowing he’s been caught.

“Are you being awkward because you’re into me?” Stiles demands. He looks—and sounds—more delighted than upset, maybe because he can hold this over Derek forever now. And why shouldn’t he? It’s unprofessional as hell.

Ashamed, Derek drops his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. There’s still time to have someone else take over for me, you shouldn’t have to deal with my—”

“Hey, no no no. You don’t get to back out. I paid Finstock five hundred dollars of actual money to get this assignment because I thought it would be my only chance to get in your bed, you do not get the creeper award of this partnership.”

“You...” For once, Derek’s stare isn’t disgracefully lustful. He’s just dumbfounded. “You bribed our boss to get partnered with me?”

“On a case where you had to pretend to be my husband. Yeah.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groans, scrubbing a hand over his face before he leans forward. “Seriously? I’ve been throwing myself at you for, like, two years. I honestly have no idea how you haven’t picked up on it, aren’t you supposed to be a trained investigator?”

“Shut up.” Derek says it mostly out of habit, because he’s too busy trying to process this new information.

He’s still having a hard time believing that Stiles has been flirting with him, wants him like he wants Stiles. Things like this just don’t happen in his life. Ever. But he doesn’t think Stiles would lie about this, it would just be too cruel. Stiles may have played into Derek’s bad luck more than once, but he’s never been one of the malicious ones. So it’s real. It’s real, and Derek can trust it, because Stiles is smiling open and honest and Derek finally realizes that as many times as he’s seen Stiles flirt—and Stiles does flirt, with everyone, all the time, jokingly—that smile’s never part of it.

But he smiles that smile at Derek all the time.

“How’s it going in there?” Stiles asks when Derek has been quiet for a bit too long. “Did I break you? I didn’t mean to break you.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” admits Derek. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“Take a shower, get some sleep? We don’t have to deal with this now. Probably shouldn’t, you know, job and all.”

It’s true, they have an important mission starting in the morning. Derek doesn’t have any of his clothes or toiletries, but the hotel provided him with some courtesy supplies and he’s feeling a lot better about sleeping next to Stiles in only his boxers now that he knows Stiles won’t hate him if he reacts to cuddling close to the object of his desires. Might even welcome it.

Just that knowledge is enough to ease the weight of his broken heart. As he washes off the day’s travel and stress, he relaxes slowly into the idea that maybe, just this once, luck is on his side. Because if Stiles is going to be his, if he can be Stiles’s, he’ll be the luckiest man in the world.

(And if, when he gets out of the shower, Stiles is still naked and propped suggestively on the bed they’re going to share; if he discovers that Stiles really was hopeful about this and packed lube and condoms and it’s a damn good thing it wasn’t that luggage that went missing; if Stiles fucks him slow and sweet until all he can say is Stiles’s name, all he can hear is Stiles whispering how he’s good and perfect and loved—well, none of that makes it into their case report at the end of the week.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Partners in Crime (Fighting) Podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178008) by [AiJamaisFacil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiJamaisFacil/pseuds/AiJamaisFacil)




End file.
